


The Dragon Lady

by giantessmess



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dragon AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantessmess/pseuds/giantessmess
Summary: When Andy hears rumors of a dragon at Elias Clark, she can't stop herself from being drawn to Miranda Priestly's lair.





	The Dragon Lady

All the stories are clear. When a knight meets a dragon, the dragon has to die. 

Andy picks up whispers of the dragon and hopes, somehow, that the chatter is true. A young fledgling, perhaps. Too stupid to know its place. Breathing fire and terrifying men and running the fashion empire with a gnash of its teeth. She quickly locates Miranda Priestly and sniffs her out, cobbling together a job interview. The woman takes one look at her over her glasses. She all but devours Andy whole, throwing her out of the Runway office after her lack of any fashion knowledge is exposed.  


Miranda smells deep and rich and brave. Not much like a dragon, though. 

Somehow, she does offer Andy the job in the end. Andy knows curiosity is a dangerous thing. But when Emily comes straight down to the lobby to find her, Andy can’t help but follow. Her head nodding, yes, yes. Trailing back upstairs to the deep belly of the fashion beast. She should have run. She needs to run. She doesn’t want to run.

* * *

The job is dull and thankless. The riddle of names and items and details tumble out in a murmur you have to strain to hear. The tasks require a kind of mind-reading only a supernatural being would dream up. 

Emily is at least nothing to worry about, though she buzzes and nips around Andy like a kind of iridescent fly with too much eyeshadow. Even if she wanted to bat her away, it’s not smart. Andy must endure the eye-rolls, the snide remarks. Must listen and learn. Because Emily knows more than she appears to. She is a useful resource. And Andy is not one to squander the useful. She listens, eyes never leaving Emily. She tries to learn enough to stay alive.

Her nights are spent dreaming. Last night, tomorrow night, every night. She dreams of knives and swords, of hands gripping the hilt, the blade swinging. The steel is cold, the tip sharp. Skin, then flesh opening up. The beat of someone's heart. Too slow. Blood blooms like a flower. There’s a voice crying. Begging for death to come. It doesn't.

* * *

Andy is biding her time. For what, she doesn’t know.

Emily hands her the key to Miranda’s house with a muttered threat. A look on her face that says Andy doesn’t deserve this privilege. Andy tends to agree with her. But Emily won’t be budged. It’s time. Andy can wait for the book like a lowly second assistant. Emily won’t be the one hanging around the Runway office, counting the seconds as the lights dim and midnight nears.

Andy feels the pulse of the clock ticking like something inside her, the slow beat taunting her. It pulls her to Miranda. To her fate. Because all the stories are clear. The knight and the dragon must meet. There are rules, and they go further back than time itself. The end has the taste of smoke to it, of blood and dirt. Andy knows she can’t run. She's had ample time to run already. 

The phone rings. The book is waiting. She readies herself. She goes.

* * *

She hesitates at the door to the upscale townhouse. The buildings that line the street loom too large, like they are crowding around her. Hemming her in. She has a cowardly thought. She could knock, leave the book at the front door. But she can sense Miranda inside. There’s a pull towards her. The sensation makes her feel a little sick. She can feel the need to be in there. To be near. She unlocks the door, steps over the threshold. Her heels click on the hardwood floors. She leaves the book on a table with flowers, white and scentless. She looks around. every table seems to contain some kind of vase, and yet the room smells empty of them. In a moment she hears it, the soft melodic voice beaconing her forward.

“Andréa…” 

Around the corner, the bookshelves fill up the walls. Miranda is waiting for her, seated in one of the plush chairs. The lights are dim and Miranda’s skin has a luminous quality to it. Her eyes are sharp and bright.

“So,” Miranda looks her up and down. Nods towards a chair, as plush as the one she is sitting in. Andy doesn’t take her up on it. She isn’t sure she shouldn’t be backing away. She smells fear, and knows it is her own.

“The book…”

“No I insist,” Miranda’s voice is soft, but grows sharper as she continues. “Sit.”

Andy does. She swallows a breath. She loathes herself. For coming here. For being so drawn to this woman. Miranda stands and goes to her mini bar, pours them both a drink. Andy blinks a little in confusion, but she takes it.

“You’re here to kill me, then?” Miranda asks, returning to her seat. “That is your endgame, right?”

Andy swallows the drink. It is rich and deep with something secretive about the way it lingers on her tongue.

“It doesn’t…” she wants to stand. Run, she thinks. _Run_. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“Oh?” Miranda tilts her head back as she drinks. Andy watches her throat move, transfixed. She licks her lips. She wants to leave. She can’t leave. Her limbs are stiff, her heart thudding.

“Did you…compel me to come?” Andy asks. “Can you actually do that?” 

Miranda laughs, looking over at her with something like wonder in her eyes.

“What a question,” Miranda shakes her head. “You are not at all what I expected, Andréa.”

“Neither are you.”

“I’m hardly that exciting,” Miranda scoffs. “After all, you’re the one who is a dragon.”

Andy looks away, not enjoying the way Miranda puzzles her out, eyes trailing down as if searching for a chink in the glamor in front of her. 

“I’m not a fool,” Miranda says, eyes narrowing. “I was trained, after all.”

“Do you have the sword?” Andy hates how small her voice is. “The one to kill me with?”

“Naturally,” Miranda says. “Given to me by my father. And his father before him. And back and back until St George.”

Andy closes her eyes, breathing out a little. She has been alive a long time. She has seen societies sprout from nothing and watched them crumble to dust. She should not fear death. She senses Miranda coming closer, but what comes next isn’t a blow. Miranda lifts her chin. Their eyes meet once Andy opens hers. It’s terrifying, staring into eyes that can see right through you. But Andy doesn’t pull away.

“Did you really come here,” Miranda says, her voice has a fondness to it. “Expecting to die?” 

Andy can’t speak. It seems she has lost the ability. Miranda’s eyes are unwavering. Something inside Andy calms. She manages to nod.

“Well,” Miranda says. And then she says nothing else, as if she too is overwhelmed. She stands, a hand on Andy's seat to steady herself.

A moment passes, and neither of them seems capable of breaking the silence until Andy lets out a breath and ventures a question.

“Why did you even hire me?” she asks. 

“Why indeed. The better question is why you even applied for the job,” Miranda counters. They both seem incapable of looking away, neither quite knowing why. Andy has the perverse need to move even closer. To touch Miranda, somehow. Somewhere. Anywhere.

“Can I ask,” Miranda says. “How old are you? When were you born?”

“When were you?”

“Now now,” Miranda smiles down at her. “It’s only rude to ask if you’re not immortal.”

“Longevity isn’t the same as immortality,” Andy says.

“I suppose it isn’t.”

“It’s been a long time,” Andy says. “I’m not…sure.”

Miranda nods.

“I’m fifty,” she offers. “Just this year.”

“I don’t really count my age in years,” Andy says. “For a time, it was easier to count it in kings.”

“Well, you look good for your age.”

“We both know this isn’t my true form.”

Miranda stares into her, but she seems to be looking over features that would elude most humans. It is as if she can see the curl of each horn and every one of her scales. The deep gold of her true eyes.

“You don’t feel…cooped up?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Andy says. “Anyway, it’s safer. To hide in plain sight.”

“That sounds quite lonely,” Miranda says.

“I suppose you’d know,” Andy says. But when Miranda shoots her a glare, she continues quickly. “I haven’t come across one of your kind in nearly a thousand years.”

“Oh,” Miranda says, blinking. “Well, we’re certainly rare. And of course, you have to be born with the sight. No one else in my line seems to have carried it over. Or tried to cultivate it. I haven’t decided about the girls.” 

“There are other monsters, and far worse ones,” Andy says. “You shouldn’t let the line die.”

Miranda gives her a look.

“It seems ludicrous that you’d want more people trained in killing dragons.”

“You know the legends as well as I do. Where there are dragons, so too will there be knights. I have a respect for tradition,” Andy says. “Anyway, I doubt my kind will be a problem your descendants will have to deal with.”

Miranda looks stricken, but she nods.

“It’s probably why so few of us are left as well.”

“I keep hearing rumors, but then I look and…” Andy sighs. “I can’t be the last.”

Miranda swallows. When she speaks, her voice is kind. 

“i'm not planning on killing you, Andréa.”

Andy stares at her.

“I don’t want to kill you either.”

“Where does that leave us?”

There it is again. The need. The pull towards Miranda that borders on maddening. Miranda meets her gaze, unwavering. Unafraid. Andy understands, now, what the pull is. 

“Can I…” Her legs wobble as she stands. Leaning forward, she runs a careful hand through Miranda’s hair. Miranda yanks her close.

When they kiss, the certainty blooms. The feeling is hot and clear. She stops hiding her true eyes. Miranda touches her cheek, stroking a scale only she can see.

“Beautiful,” she says. 

Andy feels whole. She feels both herself and hidden at the same time. Miranda takes hold of her hand. Andy nods. She allows herself to be led.

When they come together, they know each other better than most. They are more than enemies. More than lovers. They are two sides of the same coin. They are the continuation of something old, emerging anew. The line will continue. Both lines will, strengthened together until you will not be able to divine where one ends and the other begins. A full circle. It occurs to Andy that it was always meant to be this way. She curls around Miranda, holding her close. And for the first time she can remember, she sleeps through the night. She doesn’t dream.


End file.
